Only The Dead Don't Die (24 page)

“When do you want to leave?” Luther asked.

“As soon as your leg will let you,” Dean sounded excited.

“All righty then, Dr. Dean. Give me a few days. I’ll tell you in a day or so how my leg’s doin’. A man’s gotta be able to run and run like hell in this new world,” Luther said. His stomach let out a long, low, grumbling growl. “And, I do hate to be rude, but I’m starving. Who do I have to coax to get a meal around here?”

Everyone turned to look at Ella; her cheekbones flushed slightly, and she scurried off to the kitchen.

“That’s enough for me,” Luther pointed to the canned ham sitting on the lobby’s coffee table. “What are you all having for dinner?” Luther’s white teeth gleamed.

LuLu picked up the large ham and asked, “When’s Christmas, anyway?”

“Uh, last week,” Scarlett murmured. A stone-cold silence followed. It was another ugly reminded of how drastically their realities had all changed. Christmas had come and gone, and no one had even thought of it until now.
Really, who flippin’ forgets Christmas . . .

“Dean, I need to talk to you. Mind if I tag along?” Scarlett asked, but she wasn’t really asking. She was determined not to let Dean avoid her today. The past few days, every time she had attempted to have a private conversation with him, he’d always been too busy, always putting her off.

“Reckon, don’t have much choice, now do I?” he responded, a wisp of a smile crossed his lips and faded quickly.

Great, he’s in another one of his moods.
Scarlett scarfed down the last few bites of Very Berry Granola and was ready to join Dean at his usual morning lookout post on the Nut Tree overpass.

Ella handed Dean his blue Igloo cooler. “I put an extra sandwich in there for you, Scarlett,” Ella smiled and scampered back to the kitchen, probably sensing Dean’s aggravation.

When Dean was in a bad mood—everybody watch out. And everyone usually did, except for maybe the Stockton Boys. Scarlett was ready, bat in one hand and the 9mm tucked inside her partially zipped jacket. Dean was armed with his blunt weapon of choice, a crowbar, 9mm, and the cooler.

“I walk these days on account of our rapidly dwindling fuel supply,” Dean grumbled, as if warning.

“Works for me,” she said, dreading the cold morning, but felt driven to practice her sneaking skills.

Once inside the semi’s twenty-degree warmer cab, they silently sipped at the coffees Ella had packed, and they didn’t talk for a while as if afraid to break the morning’s peaceful silence.

“Have you noticed that the dead-heads seemed to have mellowed out lately?” Dean stated more than asked.

“There doesn’t seem to be as many,” she agreed.

“Hmm,” he said rubbing his chin.

“Maybe the Stockton Boys’ Pest Control strategy’s actually working,” Scarlett attempted a laugh.

“Reckon that’s why we’re so low on fuel these days. According to Paxton, it’s getting harder and harder to obtain gasoline,” Dean said.

“So when are you and Luther leaving?” Scarlett finally blurted, tired of tiptoeing around the real question she wanted to ask.

“Tomorrow, at first light. Luther said his leg’s fine, and he’s good to go.”

“I’ve been planning on taking a trip to Pinole for some time now, even before Luther joined us,” Scarlett admitted softly like some dark secret she’d been holding onto.

“I know,” he said.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Scarlett was surprised.

“Figured you’d tell me when you were good and ready to.”

Scarlett continued, “I have a car ready to go, the blue Toyota in the parking lot. Justin helped me jump-start it on one of our supply runs. I’ve been starting it every few days to keep the battery charged.” She was ready for him to start ranting.

“I’m aware of that as well,” Dean stated.

Dean seemed perfectly calm
. Jeez, does he know everything? And here I thought I was being so sly.
“I thought you’d try to stop me,” she said, embarrassed.

“Scarlett, perhaps you’ve misunderstood my motives. Hell, perhaps
I’ve
misunderstood my own motives as well. I’ve been so dead-set with keeping everyone safe that it was beyond my belief that anyone would actually want to leave the hotel, especially alone.”

“I can’t explain it. I know it’s horribly dangerous, but I absolutely have to find out about Cyndi,” Scarlett rambled.

“You still want to chance it, despite Luther’s warning about headin’ west?”

“Pinole’s on the outskirts of the Bay Area. Besides, I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t at least try.” She didn’t hold back the long, deep sigh that escaped her lips.

“Reckon I’d do the same thing. Probably should wait until Luther and I get back. What if there’s a refuge center at Travis? Heck, your sister could even be there.”

“Do you really think you’ll find help there? You’d think if the military was that close, we’d have seen signs of them by now, like flyovers, helicopters, something—” she argued.

“That’s bothering me too. Still, to clear my conscience, I’ve got to check it out. Could only be civilians there. That would explain the lack of military presence,” he reasoned.

“Do an old man a favor will ya, wait for us to get back.” For the first time, Dean turned to look at her. He looked tired and worn-out, and his crinkly-lined eyes seem to be pleading with her. “I’ll put a deal on the table. Wait for me to get back. And hell,
I’ll
go with you. We’ll be needin’ a new hotel soon anyhow since fuel supplies are running out here. We can scout it out together,” he smiled at her; it was a genuine smile; the same sincere smile he had given her the first day they had met.

“Dean, we could’ve done that weeks ago—” her voice trailed off.
Jeez, he could have told me.

“To tell you the truth, after talking to Luther, reality has sunken in, so to speak. If things don’t work out at the airbase . . .” he paused. “Promise me this, if we don’t make it back, I want you to organize the group and take ‘em to Texas,” he said it so softly she could hardly believe her ears.

“What, of course, you’ll make it back,” Scarlett rebuffed. As gruff as Dean liked to come across, he really was a sweet man with a big heart.

“Dammit Scarlett, I want you to promise me. Wait for my return, and I’ll go with you to Pinole. If I don’t make it back for whatever reason—take Justin and Ella to Texas. There, now I’ve said it,” he let out a deep breath while his right hand rubbed his chest.

“And what about LuLu?” Scarlett was afraid of Dean’s answer.

“LuLu does what LuLu wants—if you know what I mean,” Dean said, waving his hand in the air like he really didn’t care.

It reminded Scarlett of an old song,
What Ever Lola Wants—Lola Gets,
and it seemed to be accurate. “Are you all right?” her voice wavered.

He didn’t bother to answer, an annoying habit of his when he didn’t like the question. Suddenly Scarlett felt guilty for behaving so selfishly. “You’re right. I’ll wait. It’s the smartest thing to do.” Still, she was disappointed that her trip to Pinole was once again postponed.

“And Scarlett, watch out for the Stockton Boys. They’ve been behaving mighty peculiar lately. Think something’s up,” he warned.

“I’ve noticed that too.”

“Since Luther arrived, those two seem to be gone most of the time. They check-in at dinner, and then they leave the hotel again. I don’t know if you noticed, but their trucks weren’t in the parking lot when we left,” Dean said in a worried tone.

She hadn’t noticed. “Maybe that’s a good thing. They could be tired of us.” She felt relief followed by a surge of pure fear.

“If we’re not back in a week,” Dean paused, “promise me that you’ll take Justin and Ella with you to Pinole. And if you don’t find any signs of civilization—take ‘em to Texas. Whatever you do, for God’s sake, do not leave Ella alone with the Stockton Boys. Not even for one minute!”

“Dean, have you forgotten? We can’t even get Ella out in the parking lot, how do you expect me to get her to leave the hotel?” Scarlett reminded.

“I’m thinking Ella will go where ever Justin goes. I’ll talk it over with Justin this afternoon.”

“Honestly, I don’t think even Justin can get her to leave the hotel.”

“Might have to drug her. Got any sedatives in that first aid kit of yours?” Dean asked.

“You aren’t serious?”

“Do what you gotta do—” As if he wasn’t sure Scarlett took him seriously, he reached across and held her cheeks gently with his hands, “Scarlett, look at me. Promise me. Take ‘em to Texas—if I don’t make it back.”

“OK Dean, we don’t need to worry about that now. I’m sure you’ll be back in a couple of days,” she assured, trying to calm the both of them down.

“One more thing, don’t mean to be such a curmudgeon, it’s just that—” he faltered for a second. “Thing is, sometimes you remind me of my dear Mary, so damn headstrong so—so invincible. Well, she thought she was.” Dean sighed, “I had to watch her slow, agonizing death as she gradually succumbed to the cancer. No man should ever have to witness such a thing! I want you to be careful. You’re
not
invincible.”

His words stung like an ice cube stuck to her tongue, refusing to let go. Scarlett affectionately stroked his shoulder, and they sat in silence.

“So glad Mary isn’t here to see this ghastly world . . .” his words trailed off.

At that very moment, Scarlett had a peculiar notion that Dean wasn’t sitting next to her; he was sitting next to Mary. She let him have his moment while she sat there gazing out the window at the approaching mini-horde, wondering how in hell she was going to get Justin and Ella to Texas if she was
not
—invincible.
Dean, you better not die on me. I can’t do this without you.
She prayed it wasn’t an unreasonable request.

By 4:30 AM. the lobby was full of chatter and nervous laughs and silly jokes. It was like a bon voyage party. Everyone seemed jovial; even the Stockton Boys were here to see Dean and Luther off. Justin had Luther cornered, zealously demonstrating his favorite five fabulously-famous freakin’ zombie moves (otherwise known as Justin’s Fab-Five).

Poor guy, Luther pretended to be fascinated from what Scarlett could see. Scarlett wistfully watched the entire scene unfold from the stairwell’s landing, wondering if this was the last time she’d ever see Dean. She had only known him for a short time, a matter of months, but it seemed like a lifetime. He was like family now, like a dear uncle. Scarlett sheepishly walked up to Dean with her hands behind her back.

“Looks like someone’s up to no good,” Dean said with a wary expression on his face.

“It’s a little going away gift,” Scarlett handed him a big, pink gift bag.

“And just my color too,” Dean teased.

“I couldn’t find any Wild West gift bags,” she teased back.

Dean slowly stuck his hand inside the gift bag and then yanked his hand back out. “The dern thing near bit my hand off,” he joked.

“You’re close,” Scarlett said.

“For crying out loud what is it?” LuLu rasped.

“Dude, like open it already,” Justin quipped.

Finally, Dean pulled out a wad of hot-pink tissue paper and then slowly removed the layers of tissue. “Well, Twinkle Me Mary, my dear ole granddaddy had one like this,” Dean exclaimed, holding the black, leather, western hat gingerly with his fingertips. “Its even got a black and white snakeskin band.” He seemed pleased.

“Put it on. We can all take selfies,” Justin said, cell phone camera ready.

“What in tarnation is a selfie,” Dean’s eyes crinkled playfully, and he obligingly tried on the western hat, adjusting the brim just so to give it that cowboy mystic. Then Dean proceeded to saunter through the lobby, hands on hips, in what looked like an attempt to mimic John Wayne. “Well, I’ll tell ya . . .” Instead, his impersonation ended up sounding more like Johnny Cash. Everyone burst out laughing.

“Scarlett, thank you for thinking of me. But, I told you not to go on any more of those supply runs of yours,” he scolded in jest.

“And Luther, this is for you.” Scarlett didn’t want Luther to feel left out, so last night she had sorted through the special items she had acquired on her recent scavenger hunts with Justin. She decided the Swiss Colony Old-Fashioned Fudge tin was perfect for him; it didn’t expire until March. The rather large man did seem to have an affinity for edible items.

Luther held the Hello Kitty gift bag by the string handle as far away from him as possible as if it was a pair of stinky socks.

“Sorry, uh, masculine gift bags seem to be a rarity these days,” Scarlett apologized.

“I loved Hello Kitty—when I was about six,” Luther said, appearing to enjoy the attention. “Umm, um Swiss Colony Fudge.” He held up the red and white tin for everyone to see. “I see you know Luther already. The perfect gift.” Luther gave her a hug.

“Now that we’ve managed to stir-up every dead-head in the city—best we be on our way,” Dean said and gave Scarlett a long hug and whispered in her ear, “Promise me . . .”

All she could get out was an “Uh huh,” and she turned quickly, hoping no one saw the tears brewing. Scarlett stood back and watched everyone say their goodbyes, but she couldn’t talk; her throat ached from trying so hard to hold back the sobs.

“See you two soon,” Scarlett uttered as they closed the door behind them. The words fell flat onto the stone flooring. If she felt confident in trusting her strange vision-like dreams, she would have pleaded with Dean to stay. But she didn’t. She didn’t trust this new sensation, this new sense that had developed since the Super-Summer flu . . . and she didn’t beg him to stay.

Justin had given Dean a cell phone that still had a signal; although for how long, no one knew. Justin had been completely awestricken when Dean had told him he didn’t know how to charge a cell phone. But then again, now that she knew Dean better,
Dean was probably pulling Justin’s leg, just to get a rise out of the young whippersnapper
, she thought, thinking that sounded like something Dean would have said.

Justin and Ella were extremely gloomy after Dean and Luther’s departure, so Scarlett followed through on her promise to keep an eye on Ella and decided to make it a play-day.

“Anyone up for a game of Gin Rummy,” Scarlett asked, trying to lighten the mood, shuffling the deck of Bicycle playing cards.

“Uh, like nobody plays with actual cards anymore,” Justin retorted as if Scarlett was a hundred years old.

“They do these days,” Scarlett quickly quipped back, matching his tone.

They sat around the coffee table in the lobby, and Scarlett dealt the cards. She noticed Paxton and Nate leave out the front door and was greatly relieved when she heard both of their trucks take off. Scarlett cheerfully taught them how to play Gin Rummy (one of her favorite games as a child). They seemed to appreciate the distraction. It felt rather like a group therapy session or quality family-time. But all the while, her mind kept wandering to Dean and Luther. Her heart pained like an anxiety attack threatening to implode, and her gut wrenched. So she made a silly promise to herself and prayed after every hand of Gin Rummy, prayed that Dean and Luther were all right.

Scarlett and Justin helped Ella prepare a quick dinner of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese with canned milk and buttered flavor Crisco: Justin and Ella’s favorite quick meal. Scarlett was relieved the Stockton Boys hadn’t shown up for dinner and was greatly relieved that things were going smoother than she had anticipated. Finally after dinner, they all decided it was time to call Dean and Luther. The phone rang and rang, and by midnight, they all agreed it was time to get some sleep.

Scarlett snuck into Dean’s room searching for the bottle of Crown Royal.
I know it’s here somewhere.
Dean had confided that it often took two to three drinks to get him to sleep some nights. She desperately needed a drink. “There it is,” she grabbed the bottle of Crown Royal and crept back to her room. Her anxiety felt like a mushroom cloud trapped in her chest, trying to escape. It took two drinks to sooth her nerves. Why hadn’t Dean answered the phone? Finally, she managed to calm down enough to cuddle under the covers.

Images blurred by, a cloudy, hazy dream of being smothered . . . She woke up with a start, unable to breathe. A commotion in the hallway brought Scarlett out of bed instantly. The door to her room burst open, and Justin stood in the doorway yelling at her.
What’s he saying?
He was ranting and waving his arms about wildly.
Just another crazy dream?
It took a moment for his words to register.

“Fire, like we got to get out—NOW! The whole place is on fire!” Justin raved on and on.

She automatically slipped on her jeans and her shoes, thinking this was part of her dream. “What the—” Scarlett, still groggy from the alcohol was puzzled by the strange sensation burning her eyes—until she choked from the smoke. “Fire?” she gasped.

“We have to jump it,” Justin yelled. He stood in her doorway holding Ella in his arms.

“LuLu?” Scarlett choked, taking in a whiff of smoke into her lungs.

“Not in her room,” Justin answered.

“The stairs,” Scarlett said, trying to think logically.

“Too late, both stairwells are burning—” Justin managed to splutter between coughs.

“Come in,” Scarlett said firmly and slammed the door, hoping to hold off the smoke to save them a few precious minutes. “Keep low to the ground.” But he wasn’t listening to her.

“We got to jump—NOW!” Justin shrieked.

“OK, OK,” Scarlett rattled, trying to calm him down. “Ella, can you walk?” All she got was a meek “OK” nod from her.

“We’ll climb down my balcony,” Scarlett said, thinking out loud. It was really the only thing she could think to do.

“Are you cuh-ray-zee?” Ella shrieked.

Scarlett had no time to argue while she frantically ripped a sheet from the bedding. She tied one end of the sheet to the balcony’s rod-iron railing and dangled the other end over the balcony. It was still a long drop, but their only option. She saw LuLu running around in the back parking lot below and was relieved LuLu had managed to make it out all right.

“Justin, you first, then you can help Ella,” Scarlett ordered.

Justin slid down the sheet only having to jump about five feet to the parking lot below. “Easy-peasy!” he hollered up to Ella and Scarlett.

“Ella, you're next,” Scarlett gasped, the smoke seeping in from under the door.

“No,” Ella vehemently shook her head.

“You can do this. Hold onto the sheet as tightly as you can. Justin will catch you,” Scarlett encouraged.
Will the knotted sheet hold?

Ella stood there with a blank stare.

“E – L – L –A!” Justin yelled up.

That seemed to jolt the young girl back. Ella held onto the sheet that now served as a lifesaving-rope while Scarlett helped her over the railing, Justin tried to catch her just as a loud explosion rocked the building, and Justin and Ella both went rolling onto the pavement.

“You guys OK?” Scarlett shouted down, her voice muffled by the roaring fire. At that moment, Nate and Paxton drove by, each in their own trucks.

“Your turn,” Justin yelled to Scarlett. Scarlett climbed over the balcony railing and let herself down with shaking arms; she felt strong, firm hands grab onto her, and she let go of the sheet. It was Paxton. She was never so happy to see him.

“In the trucks, a horde stampeded through the front gate!” Nate screeched.

Paxton snatched Ella with one arm and carried her by the waist like a petite mannequin, then shoved her into the backseat of the double cabbed truck. Justin slid in next to her. LuLu ran inside Nate’s truck and slammed the door shut. Scarlett was relieved to see that everyone had made it out of the hotel safely. She suddenly doubled over in a coughing spasm.

“No time for that,” Paxton said, manhandling her into the front passenger’s seat. She didn’t bother to resist. Paxton shifted the truck into gear, “Buckle up, this could get messy,” Paxton ordered.

Paxton spun-out around the corner of the burning building, tires squealing, as Scarlett wobbled around the front seat feeling like a human bobble head; finally, she found the handy-dandy hold-onto-your-life handle the manufacturer
must have designed with insane drivers like Paxton in mind. Scarlett was too shaken to be irritated.

“Dammit woman, don’t be puking in my truck. Stick your head out the window,” Paxton shouted while sideswiping a huge pack of creepers. “Yeah, now that’s what I call vehicular warfare!” Paxton whooped.

Scarlett heard a series of high-pitched squeals and muted thuds, which only made her feel even more nauseated. She felt the splatter of something slimy stick to her neck, “Yuck,” she gagged, swinging her head back inside the truck. She could swear Paxton let out a chuckle, but with all that was going on: the roar of the trucks, Ella’s sobs, and Justin’s muttering, she really wasn’t sure.

Justin bellowed, “Dude, holy shit,—think we just ran over Vaca High’s entire football team!”

“Touchdown, baby!” Paxton shouted as if he was actually enjoying this.

Scarlett heard poor Ella sobbing in panting-like gasps. She wanted to ensure Ella that everything was all right, only she couldn’t stop coughing long enough to speak. Scarlett finally caught her breath and looked out the flesh-splattered windshield for the first time; she could not believe her eyes. There were creepers everywhere, jerking their way towards the hotel as if mesmerized by the enormous starburst of flames licking at the dark-dead night.

“Where are we going?” Scarlett rasped, her burning lungs still wreathing of smoke.

“I know a place.” That’s all Paxton said to them as he kept the truck steady.

The next thing Scarlett knew, they were on the highway going extremely fast as cars and trucks blurred by her spinning head.

***

Scarlett sluggishly opened her stinging eyes. The pink and lavender walls seemed to blare out at her, causing her to wince and cover her eyes. The bed seemed tiny as she slowly dragged her depleted body out of the miniature bed. Then she noticed Ella on a bed adjacent to hers, still sleeping. Scarlett realized they were in a child’s room.
Jeez, is this another one of my dreams?
The constant throbbing of her head finally convinced her that this was indeed, not a dream.

Fire!
“Dear God,” her throat croaked. The memory of nearly being trapped in the hotel came flooding back to her like a firestorm of billowing flames, causing her to fall back onto the twin bed.

Ella seemed to be all right, her breathing deep and even; she didn’t see any burns or injuries on either of them.
Where are
we?
Beside the bed stood a pale-pink nightstand adorned with a cutesy lamp with a pink, feathery lampshade. The stack of neatly folded clothes next to the lamp caught her attention: a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, a jean jacket, and even a set of underwear, all in her size. Her pair of Sketchers and a pair of tennis shoes sat at the foot of the nightstand. She pulled back the pink, polka-dotted curtains only to find the window boarded-up from the outside. That finally convinced her—this was no dream.